From a Shadow Grave by Andi C. Buchanan

Author:Andi C. Buchanan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paper Road Press
Published: 2019-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Three

In this story, you are rescued.

In the future, there are many stories of those who go back. Those who go back to find a better time, and those who go back to change their own time. They go back to kill or to save, or for one to achieve the other. These stories centre on particular points in history, feature moral dilemmas and unintended consequences.

You do not know these stories. You know only the suffocation of soil above you, the gushing of your blood, the same few bars of music playing over and over in your head. You don’t know how important it is to believe.

Even if you knew these stories, you would not expect yourself to be among those saved. When you hear scratching and digging in the earth above you, you wonder if he’s come to rescue you, full of regret, or if he’s realised you are still alive and is back to finish you off. You try to call out, but your mouth is filled with mud and the first taste of death. You don’t know how long it’s been, how long you’ve been in this tomb. There’s matting, like a sack over your face, and more dirt on top of that, crushing you down, squeezing out all the air. You’re ready to die.

The woman who saves you is about your age, perhaps a few years older. She’s wearing a jacket like the one your brother’s friend Edward wears when he rides his motorbike, and a turquoise blouse below it pulled tight against her skin.

“Aroha Brooke,” she says as she pulls you to your feet, but you’re dizzy and struggle to process what she says. “So, uh … You look in a pretty bad way. Guess we need to get you to the hospital.”

She hooks her arm around your back, pulls your hand across her shoulders for support, and together you stagger down the hill. She flags down motor cars until one stops and takes you both to the hospital.

“Hang on,” she says. “Don’t fall asleep. Keep talking, you’ll be alright.”

Aroha Brooke gets stares as she half-carries, half-drags you in through the door, but she ignores them all.

“Some fucker whacked her on the head and tried to bury her alive,” she explains. “She needs help quickly.”

That really gets stares.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ve been, uh … I’ve been living in France. I forget … ”

Fortunately, they focus on you. They give you oxygen to help you breathe, they clean and dress your wounds, and they monitor you to ensure you don’t slip into unconsciousness. Later, a doctor comes by and tests your reflexes and your memory, and later still, the police come and ask you questions but every question seems to confuse you more.

Aroha takes a piece of paper from her pocket, a map, and you point out the street on it.

“What will you…?” you ask, every word hurting.

“I’ll run right there, and then I’ll run right back. You’ll barely even notice I’m gone. I have superpowers, you know, like in the comics.

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